White Collar: Perfect Game
by Phoenix-cry
Summary: Perhaps my most requested short story...a sequel to Perfect Performance. Peter plots to get revenge on Neal for the events of Perfect Performance.


Perfect Game

"Never again."

"Then I guess you're walking home."

"Fine by me, it's only about twelve miles back to Manhattan from here." Neal pointed out. "If I start now…"

"The subway wasn't that bad. You live in New York, you need to ride the subway now and then."

"I really don't. If I wanted to come in contact with every disease known to mankind I would work at a hospital." Neal huffed. "At least there they give you gloves. When are you getting your car back?"

"It will be ready from its overhaul by the end of the day."

"Why couldn't we stay within walking distance of the Federal Building?"

"Because we have business in Queens."

"Right. What business?"

"It will be worth the trip, trust me."

Neal was starting to get nervous about Peter's vague answers about what exactly they were up to today. He didn't get any better a feeling about it when Peter lead him towards Citi Stadium, home of the NY Mets. The Stadium was open to the public at the moment, there wasn't a huge crowd but there were enough people milling about in casual dress to show that some sort of event was happening. Unfortunatly that event was probably baseball. He was about to ask what was going on again when Peter veered to loop around the large building. Neal was hoping they would just keep walking by but Peter stepped up to a middle aged balding guard that was leaning against the chain-link gate.

"Agent Burke." The guard smiled in greeting as he pushed himself away from the gate.

"Hey, Phil." Peter smiled. "How are the kids?"

"Growing up too fast." Phil sighed. "Jess wants to wear make-up."

"She is sixteen." Peter pointed out.

"Don't take her side, she's my little girl."

"Fair point." Peter put his hands up in surrender. "Anything else new?"

"No, things have been quiet around here lately." Phil assured before turning and looking Neal over. "You must be Caffrey."

"Neal." Neal offered.

"Phil." Phil introduced himself unnecessarily. "I've heard a lot about you."

"I assure you none of it's true." Neal replied.

"Yer, funny." Phil chuckled. "You two coming inside?"

"No." Neal said instantly.

"Yes." Peter corrected.

Phil nodded and opened the gate for the pair. Peter thanked him and walked through. Neal sighed heavily but followed Peter through the back entrance of Stadium. Peter walked with the kind of purpose that suggested he had a destination in mind.

"I take it you come here often." Neal observed. "I thought you were a Yankees guy."

"Phil is an informant of mine."

"What?" Neal asked in disbelief looking back over his shoulder. "No way that guy is a CI, what law could he have possibly broken?"

"I said he was an informant, I didn't say he was a criminal."

"Peter, what are we doing here?" Neal asked sourly.

"Just keep a sharp eye out."

"For what?"

"Anything suspicious." Peter answered evasively.

"The only thing that suspicious today is you."

Peter just smiled and kept walking through the high ceiling concrete halls lined with concession stands serving the kind of food that Neal wouldn't even consider eating even if the sellers paid him instead of the other way around. Growing more uneasy with their day trip out to Queens Neal was starting to fear that there wasn't a case here. When Peter lead him back into the daylight of the stadium seats and settled into a seat in a mostly empty section Neal remained standing, waiting for Peter to give up on the poor excuse for a joke and admit to what they were really doing here. The stadium was only about a quarter full for the noon time mid-week game, but they were setting up on the field to play despite the low turn out.

Neal's spirits lifted when Peter suddenly got back to his feet. However when Peter brought his hand up and placed it over his heart Neal realized he was just preparing for the traditional National Anthem. Not wanting to be disrespectful Neal took off his fedora and joined the rest of the spectators in honoring the flag. Neal cringed slightly as the guest singer didn't quite hit the notoriously difficult high note near the end. Smiling like he'd just listened to a flawless aria Peter sat back down before looking up at Neal and nodding his head towards the empty seat next to him.

"No…"

"Yes."

"Please tell me we are not actually staying here." Neal begged. "We don't have time for this."

"Sure we do."

"Baseball games last approximately six years each which is several years past my sentence…so we don't have time for this."

"Sit."

"It's not even the Yankees, who even follows the Mets?"

"Hey," Peter said defensively "they made it to the World Series last season."

"Did they win?"

"No, but that's not the point."

"Well when you come up with a point you let me know."

"Sit."

Rolling his eyes Neal sat down heavily in the uncomfortable metal stadium seat. Putting his hat back on he pulled the brim down further than usual to show Peter that he could make him sit through a baseball game but he couldn't force him to actually watch it. Peter didn't seem to care, he was happy enough watching the field as the game began. Two dull innings later Neal was thinking about admitting to Peter than he had won just so that they could get on with their day. Peter had to be up to something, he wouldn't waste FBI time in the middle of the week like this without good reason. At the bottom of the fourth-inning Neal was starting to become painfully bored, literally. Not used to sitting in one place for hours at a time Neal was worried that developing a life threatening deep vein thrombus was a legitimate threat.

"I'm leaving." Neal said firmly as he stood up.

"That would not be wise," Peter warned not taking his eye off the game "you are well outside your radius."

"Fine." Neal huffed sitting back down.

"That's the spirit."

"The fact that this is our Nation's 'past time' is ludicrous," Neal complained "it is a known fact that time doesn't pass any slower than when you're watching a baseball game, it's like being trapped in a vortex of dull."

"You could at least try to enjoy yourself."

"I should have brought a book…or a cyanide capsule."

"Hush, pay attention."

"Yeah, wouldn't want to miss any of the non-action."

Seeing that he wasn't getting anywhere with Peter Neal pulled out his phone and opened up one of the games that Mozzie had put on it. It didn't take more than five minutes of 'Candy Crush' for Neal to decide that the colorful phone game was just as uninteresting as the one he was being forced to watch. Giving up Neal put the phone away as Peter called over the vendor walking around with plastic cups of pale yellow beer. Peter looked to Neal to see if he was interested but was only met with an icy glare. Shrugging Peter bought one of the overpriced beverages and sipped at it contently.

"Should you be drinking that while you're on duty?" Neal asked suspiciously. "You are on duty right? You didn't take the day off and just 'forget' to tell me about it, did you?"

"I didn't forget anything." Peter replied with careful wording.

"So…we are somehow working right now?"

"It's always work being with you." Peter teased.

Neal was about to retort but decided against letting Peter bait him. His best guess at the moment was that Peter was surveying someone near by. Public places were great for illegal meetings, there was an odd kind of privacy in a crowd and heightened security at events helped protect both parties from violence. Neal looked around at the twenty or so people that were in immediate view but didn't see anything out of the ordinary. Looking at Peter and himself in their business suits they were the odd ones out. If they were undercover right now they were sucking at it.

Settling back into the hard stadium chair as best he could Neal gave in and stared out over the bright green field. He couldn't make any sense of what was going on down on the field, mostly because he wasn't really trying to. Several excruciating hours passed with little to nothing going on. The opposing team hadn't even made it as far as trying to run to first base. The Mets weren't doing much better, a few had made it to base, one even made it as far as third, but the score was still at a dreary 0-0. Neal had almost nodded off when everyone in the stadium, Peter included, got to their feet.

"Is it over?" Neal asked hopefully.

"This is just the seventh-inning stretch."

"This is the longest day of my life," Neal moaned in misery "and I'm counting the day I spent sweating in a Turkish prison waiting to be hung at sunset."

"Sunset?" Peter questioned. "Not dawn?"

"They were keen to get rid of me."

"I get that." Peter nodded thoughtfully.

"Seriously, Peter, you have to be masochist to enjoy this game."

"It is a sport of patience."

"I'm all out of that."

Becoming numb to the pain that the game was inflicting on him Neal passively watched a confusing scene as three people cocooned inside large inflatable suits that resembled bobble heads of players ran about, fell down, and bounced off one another. He was fairly certain he was hallucinating but it appeared to be entertaining the crowd as well during the seventh-inning stretch break. When Peter sat back down when the bottom of the seventh-inning began Neal studied him for a moment, he genuinely seemed to be enjoying this. Neal had heard Peter talk about baseball fondly but he always imagined him half watching or partially listening to it while lounging around the house on a lazy day. Neal had assumed that loving baseball was more of a concept than an actual practice.

Not about to ask Peter why he enjoyed the game, which would just invite a conversation that couldn't go anywhere other than down hill, Neal gave up on trying to figure out why anyone would want to spend their time like this or even why they were spending their particular time on it today. It wasn't until it got to the top of the ninth-inning and the score was still 'love-love' that Neal got a wash of fearful adrenaline that the game might go into extra innings. He wasn't aware of the rules enough to know if they allowed tied score, particularly when that score was zero.

Suddenly invested in the game, in the interest of it actually coming to an end, Neal started actually paying attention. The opposing team, which Neal couldn't name even if he wanted to, was up at bat and Neal was just as excited by the prospect that they could potentially win as the home team. It didn't matter who won, he just wanted someone to end this. It didn't take long for the Mets pitcher to strike out three batters in a row, once again the away team only managed strikes and foul balls, something Peter had explained to him despite not being asked.

By the time the Mets were on their second hitter Neal was on the edge of his seat. These last two at bats were his only hope for freedom. The man at the plate whiffed completely on the first two tries and allowed the third to just fly past him, which was ruled a 'ball', Peter pointed out that it didn't count. Neal had known at least that much about the sport but he didn't admit to it. With the next pitch the hitter swung with a terrifying amount of force and with a classic cracking sound the small white ball sailed over the far fence. The crowd, Neal included, were ecstatic as the game was finally won.

"Finally." Neal said in relief.

"That was amazing." Peter beamed.

"Amazing?" Neal repeated incredulously. "As far as I can tell literally nothing happened other than that one point."

"It's a run, not a point."

"Whatever. The other side didn't even make it to first base."

"Exactly, that's what makes this game so amazing. A perfect game."

"What?"

"When a pitcher manages to throw at least nine innings without allowing a single hit or walk it's called a 'Perfect Game'." Peter explained enthusiastically.

"So your idea of a good time is a game with as little action as possible?" Neal asked flatly.

"It's very rare to play a perfect game."

"Why did you bring me here?" Neal asked suspiciously. "There has to be more going on, some major criminal off the White Collar Most Wanted List here that I'm just not seeing? Something. What was this really about?"

"I just wanted to broaden your cultural horizons. Sports are just as much a part of society as art, some might argue more so."

"They would be wron…wait a minute…" Neal pieced together in horrified realization. "This is because of that art show I took you to last month, isn't it? This was a low blow, Peter, that shindig only last two hours. This has been nine whole innings of my life I'm never getting back."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Peter said in mock innocence. "This was great."

"You dragged me down here to watch me watch baseball."

"No, I just came here to watch baseball."

"Peter…"

"It was *very* entertaining."


End file.
